


A Deadly Deal, A Fate Sealed

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battlemages-Freeform, Character Death, Don't Post To Another Site, Gen, Magical Freeform, One-Shot (Open Ended), Rituals, Sacrifice Doesn't Always Mean Death, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:24:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: A rebel, Elizabeth Belmont, is sent on a suicide mission by Kingsley Shacklebot to destroy the Veil of Death.She gets more than she bargained for, and not all sacrifices end in Death.





	A Deadly Deal, A Fate Sealed

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to do a multichapter, multistory with different OCs in different fandoms because I know that starting stories and making an OC is hard sometimes. I was going to let people adopt it out, but then my computer died and the idea flopped. This was one story that I had done that I liked enough to go ahead and share. I wish I had the time to work into a long story, but don't have the time right now.

A Deadly Deal, A Fate Sealed

By ThroughtheMirrorDarkly

* * *

Her lungs burned like dragon’s fire. 

Elizabeth Belmont was running for her life, and so much more. She hid the body of a Death Eater in a nearby closet and then entered the Department of Mysteries with her heart hammering inside of her chest. Amber eyes glowed from underneath the shadow of her hood, and her full lips were chapped where she had worried them with her teeth. Her long aristocratic nose flared with the deep and desperate breaths she took, and her high cheek bones were red with exertion. Strands of her ebony hair stuck to her face slick with sweat, and she tried to fight off the telltale signs of fatigue that grew inside of her with each passing moment. Her blue velvet robes swished around her ankles as her leather boots clapped silently against the marble floors, and underneath her robes was a silver and black leather armor with hints of chain mail. 

_“You understand that there is no coming back from this. If you choose to follow this path, then it will likely be to your death,”_ Kingsley’s parting words rattled inside of her mind like angry bees trapped inside of a hive. He had been against it. He had wanted her to go into hiding after the Ministry, with corruption running rampant and unchecked after the deaths of Albus Dumbledore and Rufus Scrigemour, had started persecuting mundane born and half-bloods. Being a half-blood from a pureblood’s marriage to a mundane woman who had no spec of magical talent, Elizabeth had always known she was living on borrowed time when Voldermort rose to power once more. She knew the second she had been dragged off to the courtroom and forced into that cursed chair, with a sea of faceless men and women watching—cowards hiding behind shadows and illusion magic—that the day she had feared would come was here. The Dementors circled lazily above her, a thin barrier kept them from swooping down and sucking out her soul, but it didn’t prevent them from draining away her warmth and leaving her with a bone deep fear. 

_“Hem. Hem. State your name and blood status for the record.”_

Elizabeth had sat through a seven hour long inquiry where she had been interrogated about her education, her former job as a Battlemage, and her heritage. Dolores Umbridge—the cold-hearted bitch--didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about hinting at the fact that she would soon face a Dementor’s Kiss for supposed line theft, stating that a pureblood can’t have a child with a mundane and that Elizabeth was a fraud. _“Muggles are liars, and would do anything to gain control or power. Your mother was no different. How can we be certain that you aren’t simply an imposter passing as the Belmont heir? Line theft is a very serious matter.”_

It wasn’t the first time this had been attempted. Back when she was a baby, her “lovely” cousin Luthor Greengrass had made such claims, but she had her father Trevor Belmont to fight those baseless accusations. The files from Gringotts that proved her blood lineage had conveniently been misplaced in time for the “trial”, and her father was no longer alive to provide the security that he had once had. Her parents had been murdered in the Death Eater uprising, and though they were labeled as “missing” in official records, Elizabeth had learned the truth. 

They had been sent through the Veil of Death. A place that nothing ever returned from and had been used as a “merciful” execution since it had been discovered. She remembered that day. Her father had sent her away to France, in search of a rare spell book that he said would help them set up some stronger wards to protect the manor. Now she realized when her mother had hugged her so tightly, that she was saying goodbye and that when her father smiled at her with tears in his eyes, he knew in his heart that it would be the last time they saw each other. They sent her to France not for a book, but it was their way of sending her somewhere safe. Her parents probably hoped she wouldn’t return, but how could she not when they have vanished? Her heart felt heavy with grief and guilt, and when she learned of the Veil of Death, she buried herself in ancient tomes, and scrolls trying to learn everything about it. 

She wanted her family back. She wanted her life back. 

Elizabeth had done what she could to fight against the pureblood supremacist propaganda that labeled mundane born and half-bloods as “animals” or “insects” that were part of an infestation. When the registry happened, Elizabeth started creating contacts and smuggling people out of Britain. She had learned about the mundane world and its history well enough to know what happened after registries. She was right when people were being rounded up a few months afterwards and disappeared. A mass genocide had started against those of “lesser blood”, where death and slavery seemed the only two outcomes. She left a bit of her fortune to Kingsley and the Order of Phoenix as well as her contacts, hoping that they could continue the work she started while she had chosen to undertake a suicide mission. 

She intended to destroy the Veil of Death and kill the Dementors while doing so. Ancient lore, almost lost in its entirety, had indicated that the Dementors had been pulled out of the Veil. There were mentions of a sacrifice, though what kind of sacrifice was not stated. The Veil was thereafter used as punishment to send people through, but it also strengthened the ties the Dementors had on this world. It implied there was another world beyond the Veil and that if the magical doorway was destroyed it could sever the Dementors’ power. It might not outright kill them, but it would weaken them dramatically from what Elizabeth was able to ascertain from the limited information. 

With talks of Voldemort amassing his allies for a final battle, Elizabeth knew that the Dementors would be amongst the deadliest creatures at his side. She had made it her goal months ago that if the Ministry came for her then she would take a pound of flesh in return. That if she were going to die, then it would be on her terms and no one else’s. Perhaps, it was a foolish choice. Seemingly eager to be a martyr, but the little sliver of hope that there was a world beyond the Veil that was not just of death, was too much for her heart to ignore. What if her family still yet lived? What if she could save them? The thoughts persisted even in the face of reason, and her only solace was that if she were to die then her death would help the Light. 

Three trunks, shrunk down and cast with a feather light charm, jiggled on her belt as she ran. She had gathered up everything she hadn’t left to the Order and brought it with her. Call it petty, but she would rather it be lost with her than fall into the hands of the Greengrass family. 

A yellow backpack filled with immediate supplies was slung over her shoulder, and she unzipped the front pocket to pull out a handful of golden beetles. It was at first meant to be a prank for Fred and George’s shop, but the twins had skillfully redesigned them for use in the war. The beetles were like little security guards and would squeal if they caught gaze of a trespasser. The beetles would then circle around said trespasser and cover them in mage’s bane. It would limit their magic use and give Elizabeth the advantage she needed here. 

She released them, blowing on them softly to make them flutter to life. The hum of their wings was soft and almost undetectable, and Elizabeth watched them fly off before she ventured further into the Department of Mysteries. There were lamps hanging low on golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, and she held her breath, eyes darting around warily for any sign of enemies. The room was quite empty except for a few desks, and in the middle was a large glass tank that was large enough to be a pool. The water was green, sickly green and she noticed several pearly white objects drifting leisurely through the water. The closer she got to it, the more she felt dread skirt down her spine when she was able to make out the slimy, cauliflower shapes enough to realize what they were. 

Brains. 

Bile rushed up her throat, and her mind felt at a complete loss at what to comprehend it was seeing. She grimaced, giving the tank a wide berth and tried not to think about why these brains were there in the first place. It was not an answer she needed. She entered the next room which was larger than the previous room, dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of the it sunken, forming a great stone pit. Along the topmost tier were stone benches, reminding her of a courtroom or amphitheater. Her stone jolted sharp and unpleasant though when she saw no chained chair, but a dais raised in the center of the floor below. There was a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked, and crumbling that it was amazing that it had stood the test of time. 

“The Veil,” she whispered out, her tone filled with equal amount of awe and fear. It was unsupported by any surrounding walls, standing alone and a tattered black curtain, fluttered as though it had just been touched despite the still emptiness of the room. For a moment, she stood there feeling the full weight of the monumental task in front of her and then suddenly there was a shrill shriek that came from the room behind her. Her heart whipped around, and she could hear the violent curses of people who were no doubt being doused by her little beetles. With a flick of her wrist, her wand appeared out of her hostler and she slammed the door shut. Quick and jerky hand movements, she created a ward over the door to buy her as much time as she could. 

Once the door was secure, Elizabeth scrambled down the benches as fast as her legs could take her until she had reached the bottom of the sunken pit. Her footsteps echoed like thunder as she rushed towards the dais, and she slung her backpack off her shoulder. She pulled it open, hastily pulling out a large vial of a blood red potion. It was filled with dragon’s blood, and other magical ingredients that would charge the spell she intended to rip down the Veil. Blood Magic was powerful but dangerous in the wrong hands, and she hoped that she wasn’t the wrong hands in this moment. 

Heart pounding in her chest, Elizabeth closed her eyes and envisioned the runes and wards that the old tome had shown. Her jaw clenched tightly, and she carved the image into the stone floor. The intricate circles and spirals with ancient Latin and runes running in tandem came to life with a violent hiss and she felt bead along her forehead when the air around her seemed to snap like the crack of a whip. 

The pointed archway seemed to hum, and trembled. The ground beneath her feet shook angrily, almost like in warning. Elizabeth eyes flung open, feeling as if someone was staring at her, but the door was still shut even though she could hear the slams and spells being thrown at it. Her eyes flickered to the veil, and she could feel…a presence, as if there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Like a child pressing their nose against the glass, fogging it up with their breath and watching the snow fall eagerly. Gripping her wand tightly, Elizabeth swallowed thickly and repeated the process two more times until the three runic spells surrounding the Veil. 

A low loud groan reverberated from the Veil causing her heart to flutter with panic, she edged around the dais with great care not allowing herself to lured by its strange yet lethal beauty. She could feel the compulsion, to just climb up on the dais and walk through it. Is this what her family felt, she wondered? Did they walk to their own demise, lured in by this twinge of power? Her teeth sank into her lower lip so hard that it drew blood and she conjured up bowls to sit in the center of the runes. Uncorking the bottle of potion, she dripped a good amount into each bowl and then settled down in front of the Veil on her knees. 

It was so deceptive, almost insidiously so. The black veil fluttering, giving a vision of the other side of the room as if one could simply pass through unscathed, but she felt the power come off it in waves. There was the faintest of whispers, murmurs that bid her to com closer and into the Veil. 

The wards failed and with a thunderous noise, the door broke to pieces. 

Death Eaters rushed into the room and Elizabeth felt her heart slam to her throat. Three death curses with that familiar acidic green light came shooting at her, and she rushed to grab her staff, even though she knew it was too late. The ritual wasn’t done and there was no way to dodge that many spells. She accepted defeat and death, with a bitter heart. 

The spells neared her and then disappeared in a swirl of gold. 

Elizabeth flinched in surprise, and even the Death Eaters paused in shock. She stumbled back on her feet and her eyes jerked down to the runic spell. Her lips parted with a shaky breath, and a knot furrowed along her brow. While grateful that the death curses did not reach her, she didn’t understand how the runic spells absorbed it. All her research had never indicated such a thing, and she felt beads of sweat dot her forehead when the runes started to shimmer and shake. 

The temperature in the room plummeted and the stench of death filled the air, a dark silhouette appeared in the Veil with a tattered cloak billowing all around them and materialized into existence right before her very eyes. A fear burrowed ruthlessly into her skin and she took a step back from the figure that loomed over her, and she could hear the Death Eaters screams’ echo through the room. 

Elizabeth jerked her head around, but the room beyond her runic spell was not blurry and incomprehensible to her eyes. “Wh—what is going on?” she demanded, but her voice sounded weak to her our ears. 

_“Hmm, a mortal that pulled me from my realm? To what end, I wonder do you play with forces beyond your ken?”_

The energy that came off the mysterious figure was so potent and powerful that it drove her down to her knees, and its voice—it sounded like a thousand voices screaming in unison. Eyes like blue flames held her and she couldn’t blink or turn away, no matter how hard she tried. It felt like white hot nails being shoved into her brain, and scrapping apart her memories, dissecting her entire life in split second. The corrosive feeling drove deeper and deeper, until it was tearing apart her soul and there was screaming. 

She _was_ screaming—screaming until her throat was cracked, and the taste of pennies was the back of her tongue. Every single of atom of her body was twisted and bent, for Death’s viewing pleasure and it was surely Death that she stared while all the blood drained out of her face. Her lips turned blue when all the air was stolen out of her lungs, and her screams stuttered to an abrupt halt. Her heart pulsed once, twice, and then her heart went quiet. 

She was suspended there, on the precipice of death for what seemed like eternity until she was hurtled back away from the dark abyss with her heart sounded off like a cannon. Elizabeth slumped on the ground, gasping like a fish out of water and shaking like a leaf. Her eyes were haunted and filled with tears, while Death loomed over her with its head cocked to the side. 

_“Hmm, how amusing. Those that have dared to invoke my power, only sought to gain more for themselves and yet you…you came here with the acceptance that you would not make it out alive,”_ Death spoke, with a certainty only it could. _“You amuse me, little mortal. Your ritual comes at a high cost, and yet…”_

Elizabeth felt like she would never been warm again, and she blinked her blurry eyes—blurry from the tears of panic and found that she was no longer in the Department of Mysteries. All around her was a castle that looked like Hogwarts, but it was had no color or life. It was all a pristine and blinding white, untouched and blank. In front of her was the Veil, the curtain that blew on an unseen wind was jet black and the contrast in color was startling. Beyond the curtain, a broken landscape with a sickly green sky and a black city that loomed in the sky in warning. 

_“Rise to your feet, little mortal. I have seen fit to grant you a boon, for your folly has broken up the monotony of my eternal existence and the aftermath will impact the Wizarding World in a way that will be most entertaining. Sadly, you will not be able to see that.”_

“I don’t understand…” Elizabeth hissed, through clenched teeth. 

_“It is not your place to understand.”_ The deathly being said, dismissively. _“The souls from the Veil shall be freed and the dementors sent back from whence they came. Walk into the Veil, voyage to the place beyond, and discover whatever fate befalls you.”_

There were a million questions that ran through her mind, but the one that mattered the most fell from her lips. “The souls—the souls shall be freed? What do you mean?” she asked, breathlessly. 

It was mind boggling that she was here. The ritual, she had never expected this. She had been prepared to die at the hands of Death Eaters, not be drawn into some weird as place like this. She did not expect to come face to face with the embodiment of Death. It was never a thing that she believed in, and yet here she was against all odds. 

_What have I done,_ she thought, stricken. 

_“For every soul that is thrown into the Veil, a Dementor is spawned into the world. When the gateway into the Veil crumbles, the link will be severed, and the souls caught in limbo shall be freed back into the world. And the Dementors will no longer pose at threat to your world.”_

“My parents…” came her raspy whisper. It hurt too much to hope. 

_“Are amongst those that will live again.”_

Elizabeth felt tears roll down her cheeks. It was more than she had ever hoped to accomplish, and she could feel the truth in Death’s words. Death was a being that had saw no value in lies or falsehoods. She could complete the ritual; the dementors would be gone and her parents—amongst others—would be freed. 

Her eyes flickered to the Veil. 

“All I have to do is go into the Veil?” 

_“Yes.”_

“What will happen to me when I do? It won’t be like what happened to those before me, will it?” asked Elizabeth, slightly hesitant. She was already on her feet, albeit shakily. Her wand and staff clasped in both of her hands, and she felt hot and cold all over while her stomach rolled unpleasantly. 

_“It will not lead you to limbo, and what becomes of you is not my concern. What lies beyond should never have been connected to this world, and once the doorway is shut, the Veil of Death no longer is my responsibility. And this offer is not without a time limit. I am be infinite, but my patience is not.”_

That wasn’t much of answer, but she was not to sass Death. 

It was terrifying to face the unknown, to go through the Veil and not know what would become of her. But how...how could she not? Her parents would be alive, and that is all she wanted. So, Elizabeth Belmont squared her shoulder as best as she could and limped through the Veil with Death’s amused gaze pinned on her back. When she passed through the curtain, she heard Death speak one last time before her world exploded in a violent shower of green and magic. 

_“Go with my Blessing.”_

* * *

It was disconcerting feeling. 

To wake up with holes in her memory and head feeling fit to burst, but what Elizabeth Belmont found more disconcerting—oh, bloody hell, it wasn’t disconcerting! It was terrifying to find herself shackled and bound on her knees in the middle of a dark room. Four soldiers with nasty sneers and angry eyes, surrounding her on all sides with swords drawn. There was only a single torch, a small and dying light that barely illuminated the room. The chains and the shackles fixed to the stone walls, and the cells that sat in her peripheral vision were enough clues for Elizabeth to figure out that she was in a dungeon. 

And not the fun kind. 

The door to the dungeon slammed open, and an imposing woman dressed in armor, short cropped dark hair and intense black eyes marched forward. In her shadow, a red-haired woman with a violet cowl that kept her features hidden walked in with a more subdued pace. 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you,” the warrior woman demanded, with a thick accent. Her hand rested on the pommel of her sword, and the way that she looked at Elizabeth—it was like she was staring at some kind of hideous monster. 

Elizabeth swallowed, thickly. “I don’t…I don’t understand…” 

A scream of pure agony, from her throat when pain stabbed at the center of her palm then shot up her arm like fire in her veins, and it felt like that pure, untamed magic was trying to flay limb apart from the inside out. Black dots danced in front of her vision and she pitched forward and would have hit the floor if the warrior woman hadn’t grabbed her by the shoulder. 

Elizabeth clenched her eyes tightly shut, and then peeled them open after the pain became bearable. Horror lanced through her gut and she stared down at her right hand, where a strange mark—a mark of magic that was foreign clung had burrowed into her palm like a parasite, and it was snaking up her arm, attempting to poison her magical core. “Wh—what is that?” she screeched, her voice went shrill with panic. “What is _that_? Why is it on me?” 

“Do you remember how you and your cohort was found?” the red-head asked, her voice was soft but held a sly undercurrent. 

“C—cohort?!” 

The warrior woman grasped her by the chin and shoved her head to the right. “Him.” 

In the cell on the far side of the room, a young man with silvery hair and pointed ears laid motionless on the ground. On his left hand, the same type of magic grew and crackled unchecked. 

Elizabeth felt her breaths grow short, and her pupils shrank until they were pinpoints. “Oh, God…Oh, God…”_Oh, what have I done and gotten myself into?_

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: (I have no plans to continue this at this time, as I have way too many stories and planned stories on my plate to add another)  
1.) You could consider that Elizabeth created a vision of the Deathly Hallows, which explains her dialogue with “Death”, and why he was so generous with her since it was unwittingly done and not an intentional grasp for more power. The Runic Spells were set up like the triangle (the cloak), The Veil of Death was in the center (the stone), and Elizabeth because she was a witch and the way her staff and wand was laid beside (the wand). Though Death will play no great part in the story, he was greatly amused by this mortal similar to the way he was amused by the Pervell brother who asked for the cloak, and took the death of the Dementors and the souls released as a way of payment to let her pass unscathed. What happens to her after that, he really doesn’t care. She isn’t in the realm any longer, and not his problem. Also, I don’t think Death would like the Dementors, considering he is the harbinger meant to guide souls on this plane so to have a monster that feeds and traps souls inside of them would be like someone stepping in his sandbox in a way worse than the Perevell brothers did.  
2.) Runic Spell--Not entirely my own creation. If you play Dragon Age Inquisition, it’s like the ward spells that they cast where it’s the circles that are filled with runes and other shapes. That’s what kind of casting that Elizabeth performed, and the reason we don’t see much of it in Harry Potter, is because it’s old magic. Remember Elizabeth discovered the information about the Veil from is really old, and the reason Elizabeth could charge the spell is because she is a Battlemage which means she used to using spells that require a good pack of power. She isn’t all powerful, but she has stamina from being trained as a wizarding soldier.  
3.) Battlemage--It was always felt strange to me that the Wizarding World didn’t have some form of soldier, or army. The Aurors (magical police officers) are not soldiers, and shouldn’t be considered such. So that’s where the idea of Battlemages existing came forth. Obviously, the Ministry in its corruption disbanded them because if the Wizarding World had a cohesive Army that would cause complications for Voldemort. This is why the Battlemages weren’t able to gather to together to help stop Voldemort, and given that mostly purebloods were allowed higher up jobs much like Battlemages, it could be said that about half would have joined Voldemort’s side.  
4.) Staves--The idea that staves had become non-existent in Wizarding World always left me puzzled since great Wizards like Merlin were renowned for having them. So I reasoned that perhaps staves were specialized, which is why you have to become a battlemage in order to have one made. They are powerful and dangerous (look at Dragon Age Inquisiton staff, it’s a good example for my head cannon), but limited. A staff can’t be used for everyday spells like a wand can (lumos, alohamora, etc), and mostly are elemental based attacks such as fire, ice, water, etc. A staff is created by using a wand and breaking it down, which is a major sacrifice for a witch or wizard to make. It’s kind of a right of passage to prove their dedication and loyalty. (Knowing the prejudices that put a target on his daughter’s, Trevor Belmont insisted that Elizabeth get another wand even though that’s technically illegal. This is why Elizabeth had both a staff and a wand.)  
5.) The Dementors (Despair Demons)--The Despair Demons and Dementors have a lot in common. Both feed off of dark feelings, both have the ability to form ice and drain the warmth from an area or people, and both hover in the air, obscured in tattered robes. Given that the Veil is a thing in both Dragon Age and Harry Potter, it’s not a big leap to connect the two for fan fiction purposes. But how is it that a Dementor is so much strong than a Despair Demon, having the ability not only to manipulate a person’s emotions but also suck out their very life-force in a way that Despair Demons cannot? It all comes down the magical climate. In Dragon Age, the Veil has been created leaving magic very limited. In the HP universe, magic has very few limitations and can be used from anything to everyday life to the extraordinary. The Fade where mages in Thedas draw their power to cast magic, is also the place where spirits and demons (such as the Despair Demons) resides. They are reflect of the world and its limits, so the Despair Demon are lesser than what they once were, only able to inflict grief and despair upon a person and attempt to steal their body whereas a Dementor is a more potent powerful form that doesn’t need to inhabit a mage’s body in order to feed off their soul. That is my head cannon, and reasonable explanation. :D


End file.
